A Long Flight Home
by Sandylee007
Summary: Phil Coulson was supposed to be dead. When Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye, is captured he learns the bitter truth. Will the rescue reach Clint before it's too late? And if it does, will he ever forgive Phil and Nick Fury? FIVE TO EIGHT CHAPTERS OF HURT AND HOPEFULLY SOME COMFORT
1. The End of Hiding

A/N: HERE IT IS! This story's arrival was first announced on my 'SOS' collection, but it isn't necessary to know that to understand this. This thought train came to me a while ago and refused to be stopped. (grins sheepishly)

DISCLAIMER: Yeeeeeeeeah, right… See any cows flying? Me neither. Which means that I own absolutely nothing. I wish I had the money to make a movie and hire Renner to star it…!

WARNING: some violence and language, adult themes, thus rated heavy T (at least for now)

TAKES PLACE: before 'Civil War', during Clint's retirement (I felt tempted to set this post 'CW' but then decided that the level of angst was already high enough with this premise, heh) / the mood fits what I've heard of post season 3 'Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D' (I haven't had the chance to watch that series yet, although I'm determined to VERY soon, so no fear of missing out on anything if you're not familiar with it)

* * *

 ** _A Long Flight Home_**

* * *

The End of Hiding

* * *

After several months Clint still wasn't sure how well retirement suited him. He treasured every minute he spent with his family, of course he did, especially with how much he'd already missed out on. But when the night fell, with its shadows, memories and nightmares…

It was like a flame calling out to a moth.

But he was settling in, with the patient help from Laura and their kids. Slowly yet surely he began to grow used to the domestic life. He enjoyed it, but he never stopped looking over his shoulder.

Because if there was anything he'd learned – the hardest way possible – it was that when something felt too good to be true it didn't last.

"Daddy!" Lila's eyes shone with excitement as they made their way towards their car, the little girl jumping from joy. She was clutching a brand new book to her chest like it was her greatest treasure. A book that should've been too demanding for someone of her age. "Did you know that hawks see eight time better than humans?"

Clint couldn't resist a small smile, even though it ached to discover how much she'd grown when he wasn't looking. He ruffled her hair, then placed a kiss to the top of her head. "They do, huh? Sounds like mighty beasts." If only she knew which name he went by on duty… It was better for safety that she didn't.

Lila giggled. "They're not beasts!" she argued. "They're amazing!" She looked at him with sparkling eyes. "Can I get a pet-hawk?"

Clint never had to come up with an answer. Because just then he saw eight suspicious shadows approaching them. His narrowed eyes scanned through the parking hall. It was practically deserted at the moment, just a few cars to keep theirs company. No help in sight.

"Lila." He'd been an agent and a dad long enough to be able to keep his voice calm. "Get into the car and lock the doors. Hide. Right now."

"Daddy…!" Lila whimpered quietly, terrified but obviously unwilling to leave him behind.

"Now!"

Lila began to run. He was unable to look away from her despite the approaching threat, because only seven of the eight attackers were headed towards him. Sheer terror squeezed his heart and he moved to help her, only to have the hostiles all over him. He fought them, with all his fire and stubbornness, while watching helplessly as the eighth one grabbed his hysterically screaming daughter. However long he had left to live, the sound of her panicked voice calling out to him would never stop haunting him.

He'd managed to take down six of the attackers when all of a sudden something sharp struck his neck. Just seconds later everything was spinning and swaying. The world became pitch-black.

* * *

It'd been a long, horrible day. One of those when the good guys barely won. It was on days like this when he found himself thinking far too much.

Phil Coulson sighed heavily as he entered the apartment he wasn't quite ready to call a home, feeling exhausted beyond his years. He needed a long, scalding shower. And a stiff drink. Then he'd sleep for a week.

All of a sudden he froze, his nose wrinkling at the thought of alcohol. Maybe not. It would've reminded him too much of all those times he sat drinking with Clint after a particularly 'bitchy mission' – well, they did that whenever one of them, usually Clint, wasn't in need of urgent medical care. He didn't need any more memories haunting him tonight.

There was nothing Phil could do about the ton's weight of guilt crushing his chest, though.

He'd go back one day. That was what he always told himself, what he clung to because otherwise it would've been _unbearable_. He clung to that desperate thought even though he couldn't help wondering what was still left waiting for him.

He was a dead man walking.

S.H.I.E.L.D as he knew it… _before_ had gone up in flames – he knew because he was still working furiously to scoop together what little there was left.

According to Nick Fury's reports the original Avengers… weren't having it easy, either. Clint had retired. Bruce and Thor… Even Fury didn't know where those two were. The rest of them were doing their all to keep the new, expanded team together.

All that Phil had believed in, worked for, fought for, died for… Gone. Like his whole existence never made any difference at all.

And he very much doubted that Clint and Natasha would've welcomed him back with open arms and understanding.

Phil fought to shake off those gloomy thoughts with a deep sigh. His eyes, darker than usual, scanned through the apartment around him. This was his life now. People had died – good people, friends, allies – but by a twist of fate and with something like luck he was still alive. And somehow he'd have to make the most of it, for the sake of all those who'd passed away and those who were still fighting, too.

Suddenly Phil froze, sensing that something was… off. He frowned, instantly reaching out towards his gun and moving soundlessly further into the apartment. His eyes were sharp as they darted around, spotting far too many ominous shadows. What he found made the hand holding the firearm drop heavily. He gasped once, sharply, loudly. Not finding enough breath for any of the words crawling to his tongue, bitter as poison. It wasn't until years later he figured out why his eyes stung hellishly and blurred.

There in the middle of the living room, abandoned mercilessly and carelessly, were Clint's bow and a few arrows, drenched in blood. Along with a brief note. Although it'd been years – almost a decade – he recognized the handwriting immediately.

' _You should've never become a ghost – now he'll pay for your sins._ '

* * *

Clint woke up to a world of pain. He didn't open his eyes immediately, unwilling to give away the fact that he was awake. He felt and listened, willing his pulse to remain calm with years upon years of field experience.

He was hanging from something, his arms lifted above his head and _hurting_. It didn't help with the discomfort that metal dug into his skin. His captors hadn't been sloppy. His feet had been restrained as well. The bruises and injuries he received from the scuffle leading to his capture were expressing loud objections towards his harsh treatment. And the worst was, without a shadow of a doubt, still to come.

"Well, finally. I was growing impatient", a heavily accented female voice greeted him. "I'm not good at waiting."

Slowly and with unexpected effort Clint opened his eyes, just a little. At first all he could see was blur but soon the world around him cleared enough to show him a woman of his age. She looked like an angel with her long, blonde hair and big blue eyes. The darkness in her gaze revealed the truth.

"My daughter…"

"The cute little girl? She's safe. Scared, but perfectly unharmed. And she'll stay that way for as long as you play nice." The woman leaned closer, her eyes becoming nothing short of threatening. "You, on the other hand… are going to help me deliver a message."

Clint growled and swore colorfully, inwardly. If he wasn't so firmly restrained, he would've… "You're threatening my child… to send a message?" he hissed.

"Yes." The woman said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Only a hazardous flash in her eyes betraying the emotions lurking underneath the cool exterior. "You'll help me demonstrate to Phil Coulson just how bad of an idea it was to harm my family."

Those words stung and hit like a bullet or a knife. Tore at Clint, so painfully that he could barely breathe. It took absolutely all his willpower to keep his emotions in check.

The woman didn't seem to notice the slip in his façade. Or perhaps she did, because her words gained fuel and her accent grew thicker. "If Coulson doesn't contact me I'm going to send you to him. Piece… by… piece."

Clint wasn't able to fight back a violent shiver. Because at that moment, looking into her eyes, he knew. If she was expecting a contact from Phil, Clint was as good as dead.

To his surprise she began to laugh. "Oh, your poor little lamb… You have no idea, do you?"

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: And so we begin…! Poor Clint – and Lila, too! And Phil. We'll see just how this whole mess ends… (winces)

Sooo… Was that any good, at all? Worth continuing? PLEASE, let me know! First chapters are always unnerving so it'd mean the world to me to hear from you.

In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you guys again?

Take care!


	2. Stings Like a Blade

A/N: Woah! This chapter was born WAY faster and earlier than I imagined. We'll see what it means, quality and content considered…

DANG…! So many of you have joined this ride. (BEAMS) THANK YOU, so much, for your reviews, listings and love! You guys are awesome. (HUGS)

Awkay, because stalling is RUDE… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Stings Like a Blade

* * *

/ _"_ I've got a visual and I'm ready to take a shot _."_

 _Working with a young, testy agent named Tanner Milton made Phil Coulson miss Clint Barton. The famous Hawkeye was on a sick leave, nursing three gunshot wounds that – according to all probability – should've claimed the man's life. Which led to agent Milton, still green from recent training, being pushed to a mission the man absolutely wasn't ready for. Phil protested, so did Fury. It didn't help because Milton happened to be the son of someone very high on the food chain and if the brat wanted to take a mission…_

 _Phil gritted his teeth and, not for the first time, counted slowly to ten. "Hold still, Milton. We've been tracking down this woman for ten months. Let's not mess up now."_

 _"_ She's extremely dangerous and I'm ready to take her down _", Milton protested, sounding like a petulant child. "_ She's getting into a car! Just give me the green light and I'll finish her off! _"_

 _"There are innocent bystanders everywhere!" Phil snapped. It wasn't often he lost his temper, especially with one of his charges, but this kid… "Do not risk them, do you understand? Don't take a shot unless it's clean. If she gets away we'll track her down again."_

 _Milton quite obviously wasn't listening. "_ Ten more seconds and it's too late. I'm taking her down now. _"_

 _"Milton…!"_

 _Too late. The four gunshots were like hisses as they burst through a silencer. Each of them slammed into the car that was beginning to slide away. After the final shot the vehicle stopped violently. A man dashed from the passenger's seat just as their target opened the backdoor and stumbled out, her back towards them. She slumped to sit on the street, like a marionette on broken strings, and didn't get back up. There was blood, signaling that she was injured. How badly?_

 _Phil was busy with those musings. But that was when he realized that the woman's five bodyguards had noticed the young, foolish sniper's hideout. It wasn't hard to follow the pattern of four bullets that came from the same spot._

 _"Milton, get out of there! They're coming for you!" he snarled. "Five hostiles are moving towards you!" His chest tightened painfully because as much as he disliked the man the thought of…_

 _Milton followed his instructions for once. The youth encountered four of the bodyguards in the building's stairway. The hand to hand was a little sloppy and inexperienced but got the job done. Phil might've breathed a sigh of relief if it wasn't for hostile number five._

 _There was a one more gunshot. This time not through a silencer. Milton froze, then slowly brought a hand to the back of his neck. The limb came back covered in blood._

 _"Milton!"_

 _But the kid was in no condition to hear anything anymore. The man swayed, so violently that he saw it easily on the computer screen. Then slumped down and didn't get up ever again._ /

* * *

Nick Fury knew his agents fairly well. Or at least thought he did, before what used to be S.H.I.E.L.D came crashing down. Someone in his position was expected to have good people reading skills. The second Phil walked in it was obvious that something was horribly wrong. Phil was incredibly pale and the look in the man's eyes was nothing short of haunted.

Fury opened his lips. Phil was faster. "Olga Cherkov." The man sounded like he was growling. A breathtaking amount of pain was visible in those eyes. "She was supposed to be dead."

Fury sighed heavily, feeling the full force of the headache that'd been threatening to grab a hold of him all day. This wasn't the only lie he'd ever told, and this most definitely wasn't the worst lie. But the look on the other's face… "She was incarcerated. The last time I received any news she'd been attacked in prison and it was highly unlikely that she'd pull through."

Phil stared at him, horror rising into those eyes as an unthinkable possibility began to take shape. "She died. That shot cost me an agent." There was a long, loaded pause. "If she's still alive… Who else aside Milton died that day?"

Fury gritted his teeth. This was going to _hurt_ , and it was in moments like this he absolutely hated his job. "It's been a long time…"

"She's taken Barton to punish me!" Phil's voice boomed, and the volume showed very clearly just how scared and worried the man was. "So who did I get killed? How much danger is he in?"

Fury groaned and closed his eyes for a few moments. It was incredibly hard to hold back a string of profane language. "You may want to sit down for this…"

* * *

"Oh, you poor thing…" The woman chuckled and shook her head, pity loud and clear in her eyes. "You really have no idea, do you?" She clicked her tongue, disgust flashing on her stunningly expressive face. "You've been their loyal little lapdog for such a long time and this is how they repay you."

Clint's eyes narrowed while his heartrate sped up. This was going to hurt, a lot. "What are you talking about?" he growled like a wounded wild animal. Even if a part of him was already suspecting a truth he didn't want to face.

"Phil Coulson is very much alive and well, little lamb." She searched his eyes and seemed to love the heartbreak and betrayal in them he couldn't hide fully. "Fury had him brought back to life. All hush hush, it's always delicate when people try to play gods." She tilted her head and sighed with mocked sadness. "It hurts like hell, doesn't it? To realize your true place." She giggled at his glare. "Did you really imagine that you're something special? That they actually trust _you_ , a criminal they handpicked and trained like a once abandoned puppy?" She pursed her lips and looked away, a faraway look appearing to her eyes. "I guess I can't blame you. You're not the first one to make that mistake."

It hurt to breathe, and it had nothing to do with his injuries. Clint used all his willpower to keep the emotions at bay, to not give her the satisfaction. But it _hurt_ , too much, and he had a feeling that his façade slipped and cracked.

' _If we're going to continue working together you'll have to trust me_ ', Phil's voice echoed in his head, taunting him.

"You still don't want to believe me", the woman observed. Curious, rather than insulted. "Stupid, But I guess it's human." She took her phone and dialed numbers. "I was supposed to call him, anyway. I guess that you deserve the chance to say 'hi', too." She brought the phone to her ear, then waited before putting it on a speaker.

In a flash Phil's entirely too familiar voice seemed to fill the entire space around them. It was full of tension and the phone distorted it a little but he would've recognized it anywhere. " _Coulson._ "

Clint swallowed thickly, feeling sick to his stomach. The world swayed dangerously before his eyes, and for the first time he was glad he was tied. "You're really alive", he murmured, undisguisable ache in his voice. How was he supposed to hide it when his heart was getting torn to shreds?

Exactly three seconds of silence ticked by. It was easy for him to hear all the words Phil was forced to swallow back. " _Are you alright?_ "

Clint gritted his teeth. No, he absolutely wasn't alright. "Yeah." It didn't sound convincing even to his own ears. He took a couple of deep breaths, during which he decided that his daughter's safety was more important than his broken heart and wounded pride. "This is no worse than Rio." He could only hope that his former handler – was it former friend, now? – still remembered that code words.

Another pause followed. " _We already know who has you. We'll come for you, alright?_ "

Clint would've given a lot if he would've been able to believe Phil's words, like he did once upon a time.

The woman laughed. "Isn't that sweet? You'll actually come for him, won't you?" All of a sudden her eyes narrowed and her whole demeanor changed. "A yet another lie, though? You should finally be honest with the poor guy and admit that he'll be dead long before you get here."

The knife was plunged into Clint's abdomen long before he realized that she was holding a blade.

Somehow Clint managed to keep himself from screaming. Maybe it was the shock. He gasped, eyes wide and his heart racing. Then she grabbed the haft and twisted. The howl that broke through his lips didn't sound like it came from a human being.

Phil's voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. Maybe this was all a sick nightmare, after all. " _CLINT!_ "

Smirking with satisfaction, the woman spoke out. "You want him back? Come and get him, but don't expect him to be alive." A horribly cold look appeared to her face. She looked at him as though seeing someone else entirely. "Because of you my son died in my arms. Consider us even." She hung up.

Clint was barely conscious while she sighed heavily, then looked at him. "Sorry about this, lamb. You seem like a good person and this isn't anything personal." She shrugged. "It's what happens with Coulson. Sometimes good people get caught in the crossfire." She kissed his forehead and ruffled his hair, then began to walk away without looking back. He lost consciousness staring at her distancing back.

* * *

/ _While agent Milton died there was an even bigger tragedy happening on the street. It'd been impossible to see from Milton's angle that Olga had been holding a little boy in her arms. A boy with a gunshot wound on his head._

 _Her little boy, who just smiled like the sun when she sat into the car, peppering him with hugs and kisses._

 _Her little boy, whose last sound in this world was the gasp he emitted when a pulled burst through her shoulder and slammed at him._

 _Her little boy, who expelled his last breath in her arms._

 _Making the world believe that she was dead wasn't a challenge because she, as the person she was, did die that day. When she buried her son she buried herself as well. As from that day she was merely surviving. She spent the following two years observing, studying and planning._

 _She kept an eye on the apartment she used to call a home, watched through carefully hidden security cameras as the S.H.I.E.L.D rummaged through it. In particular she focused on Phil Coulson, who'd been in charge over the mission which cost her son's life. Venom filled her whole being as she witnessed him going through her diaries and personal belongings. In that time they learned to know each other. And Olga came to discover something very interesting._

 _The only person in the world Olga genuinely cared about had been killed. As she saw Phil with Clint Barton she realized that she might just be able to make him see how such a loss felt. She imagined that her chance was lost when the man was imagined dead. Somewhere along the way she almost died as well._

 _Then she discovered that Phil Coulson wasn't quite as dead as she'd presumed, and all of a sudden she had every reason to stick around for a little bit longer._ /

* * *

Very little emotion could be read from Olga's face as she studied Clint's bleeding, heavily unconscious form. His wound had been patched up just enough to ensure that he wouldn't bleed out too quickly. She wanted him to still be warm when Phil got there, just like her son had been in her arms.

Collateral damage was an ugly thing.

" _I just had it confirmed_ ", a male voice from beside her announced. " _Coulson's on the way. He has a team of five along, none of the Avengers._ "

Olga scoffed. " _Most likely because none of them knows that he's still alive. No need to bother them, anyway. Coulson's a fool if he imagines that we'll be waiting here, standing in ceremony._ " She turned and began to take her leave, stubbornly refusing to look over her shoulder. She had no regrets, anyway.

" _What do you want me to do with the kid?_ "

Olga placed a fiercely protective hand to her for the time being flat stomach. Her eyes narrowed. " _Open the door. If you touch her… If you even talk to her… I will kill you._ "

* * *

Phil had his face buried into his hands as he sat in the jet. His heart thudded painfully, like Fury's words had been pulsating there as well as in his head. There was a ton's weight on his shoulders.

A rookie agent refused to listen to him. A child died. Now Clint and Lila…

He shivered and lifted his chin, feeling ill.

Tracking down Olga's call had been easy, as she'd wanted it to be. Which meant one of two options. Either they were headed for a trap or she knew that they didn't stand a chance of getting there before it was too late.

He betrayed Clint's trust. Caused this without even knowing. And he found himself wanting to pray for a chance to make it up to the Hawk.

* * *

/ _"If we're going to continue working together you'll have to trust me."_

 _Clint looked at him. So very young, angry, vulnerable and broken back then. The boy snorted, frustration seeping through. "Sorry, but no one I've met has been worth my trust. It's sort of hard to imagine that you might make an exception." The kid's jawline was incredibly tight while those sharp eyes searched his. "Why would_ you _trust_ me _, anyway? I'm a criminal."_

 _Phil should've been annoyed, worried or maybe both. Instead he smiled. "Because when we first met you missed."_

 _Clint stared at him, clearly surprised by the insight. For a few endless moments they were locked to an intense staring contest. Then, very slowly and tentatively, the boy lifted the hem of his hospital gown. Providing him visual to a wound that'd been bad enough before a recent debacle had popped several stitches. A lot of people would've found the injury and the amount of blood nauseating._

 _Phil wanted to scold Clint over his recklessness. Instead, however, he began to tend to the wound because he was the only one allowed to touch. Clint kept a close eye on him, tense but still._

 _Slowly but surely the facility's security team that'd gathered around them, four huge men who'd all had their guns drawn, began to relax._

 _"I haven't agreed to work with you yet, you know", Clint pointed out._

 _"Yeah, you have", Phil argued, his tone far softer than usual._ /

* * *

A hand was laid to his shoulder. It startled him to a point where he shivered. He lifted his gaze to find Maria Hill looking down at him. He knew that she didn't appreciate what he and Fury did, she'd made as much adamantly clear. But at the moment there was deep sympathy on her face. "Hey. We'll find them."

Phil nodded. His head was still buzzing as he stared at the opposite wall. "He'll never forgive me." He rather focused on that than the possibility that he'd never get the chance to see if he was right.

"Maybe." Maria had never been one to sugarcoat the truth. "But he'll be alive to make that decision."

Phil wished that he would've been able to trust her words.

They sat in a silence while the journey continued. His memory kept tormenting him with the image of Clint's bloodied bow. The sting of guilt was worse than the stab which killed him.

* * *

The door screeched terrifyingly loudly and Lila jumped, her wide eyes darting immediately towards the sound. She stiffened until she was hurting, dreading. But no one came in. The space around her remained shadowy, empty and threatening.

Minutes, each one of them feeling like an hour, dragged by. She kept waiting tensely, scared and on alert. No one came.

Her eyes stung and watered from tears of fear but she wiped them away angrily, her hand trembling as she did.

Eventually Lila couldn't bring herself to wait any longer. She got up, pleased to discover that her feet agreed to carry her weight, and began to make her way towards the door. She didn't hesitate until she stood directly behind it.

It was terrifying, not knowing what was waiting for her. Then she gritted her teeth firmly. Her daddy had always taught her to be brave.

And so she pushed the door open, shivering at how loud it was.

At first the space in front of her was too dark for her to see anything. Then she realized that someone lay on the cold, dusty floor, their back towards her. Unmoving.

She gulped hard and licked her lips, caught up to an intense inner debate. Then, very slowly, she began to move. Scared but determined.

All of a sudden her eyes widened as a horrible recognition dawned. It was one of the most horrifying experiences in her young life to realize that she knew that person. "Daddy!" she shrieked, and nothing in the world would've been enough to hold her back.

He didn't answer her. Didn't even twitch. _Wrong_ , all of it.

She fell to her knees beside him so hard that it hurt but didn't even notice. "Daddy!" His eyes remained closed. He was never supposed to be that still. There were so many bruises on his face…

Frantic and terrified out of her mind she grabbed his shoulder. She shook it, first gently, then firmly. His body moved free of his will but he wouldn't come back to her.

Tears spilled to her cheeks. This time she didn't bother to wipe them away, didn't even notice. Her lower lip wobbled and she bit it until it bled. "Daddy, please…!" she whimpered.

Nothing happened.

Lila wanted to run away. But she was too scared to even breathe properly. So she held still, clutching at her dad's shoulder as tightly as she possibly could. Held on to him through minutes that seemed like days.

The only sounds heard in the entire building were her sobs and her occasional, desperate cries for her daddy.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: GOSH, poor Lila! And poor Clint and Phil! We'll see just how deep this royal mess becomes. (shudders and winces)

Ready for more? Thoughts? Comments? Do let me know! It'd be FANTASTIC to hear from you.

Awkay, I've really gotta get going. Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Nightshade: Those poor things, right? Such a mess…! We'll see just how bad this gets…

It's an amazing compliment that you're so attached my tales and the characters! I absolutely adore them, too. (BEAMS)

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Guest: That's REALLY good to hear! I really hope that what's to come won't disappoint.

Huge thank yous for the review!

* * *

Anonymous: I'm overjoyed that you enjoyed the kick-start so much! We'll see just what comes next… It'll be a bumpy ride!

Massive thank yous for the review! Until next time.

* * *

Alethea13: We'll see, we'll see… The next chapter provides some answers. (wiggles eyebrows)

Enormous thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	3. Ghosts Come Marching In

A/N: It's updating time! (BEAMS) BUT, before continuing with this heartbreaking tale…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, listings and love! I've been dreaming of typing this fic for ages, to be honest, and it means A LOT that you're all taking this journey with me. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I'm getting sentimental with old age… Let's finally go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

 **Just to warn you, the 'hurt' part isn't quite over yet…!**

* * *

Ghosts Come Marching In

* * *

Lila had no idea how much time passed by. Eventually she'd been calling out to her dad – in turns whispering, whimpering and shouting – until her voice was hoarse. Nothing helped, nothing brought him back to her.

Her desperate hold on his shoulder tightened as she eventually lay down and curled up behind him. She was aiming to shield him but the position was closer to seeking shelter. By then she'd ran out of tears. She was too young to understand that she might've been too much in a shock to cry.

More time passed by until all of a sudden she realized that they were no longer alone. Steps echoed from a distance, approaching. There were also shouts. If Lila had been a little less scared one of the voices might've struck her as familiar.

She shook her dad's shoulder anxiously. "Daddy!" she half yelped, half whispered. "Daddy, please…! Wake up! They're coming back!" It all came out in a rush, most likely incomprehensible. He didn't even twitch. She choked back a sob, hunching closer to him. "Daddy, wake up!"

Then it was too late. Because the steps were already there. And then a ghost entered the shadowy room.

Lila screamed.

* * *

Phil's team entered the building swiftly but quietly. They dared to relax only marginally upon discovering that there wasn't a trace left of Olga Cherkov or her men. They were all much too aware of the security cameras recording their progress. But those were all that'd been left to greet them. It was worrying that there weren't even traps.

It was like she already got what she wanted.

They called clear on a massive hallway that looked like the set of a horror movie, then entered a long ago abandoned factory hall. They tensed up upon discovering the outlines of two people. Very soon it became clear that they weren't facing a threat.

In the dim light Phil saw a chilling pool of blood in front of the man he quickly recognized as Clint. Despite the dark he could see that the archer was far too pale, nearly lifeless. From the distance it was impossible to tell if the Hawk was even breathing.

And like that wasn't bad enough Phil's gaze shifted enough to distinguish Lila. They stared at each other, their eyes shining in the shadows. Then she began to scream.

"You're not real! You're not real!" the little girl shouted hysterically. "Go away!"

Phil's heart sunk as he remembered that as far as Lila knew, he was a dead man. He took a cautious step closer. "Lila…"

Lila's yelp froze and silenced him, bit like a bullet.

A new set of approaching steps snatched Phil back from the brink of losing control over himself. He turned, hand reaching out towards a firearm, to see someone speed past. Something red.

Lila saw, too. The child's wide, tear filled eyes looked at the arrival pleadingly. "Aunt Tasha, daddy…!" The girl trailed off, unable to voice it.

"I know, I know." Natasha's tone was atypically soft. Only a careful ear, such that knew her well, caught the worry and fear hiding underneath. The former assassin was carefully avoiding looking at Phil, obviously having decided that at the moment Clint and his little girl were more important. "We'll get him help, okay? You've been really brave but we'll take over now."

It definitely looked like Lila wanted to be held. But she also didn't seem to be quite ready to step away from her dad. She swallowed hard. "He won't wake up", the child whispered, her voice hoarse and heartbreakingly young.

The arrival of the medical team startled all three of them. Mainly because Phil had been too preoccupied to notice that Maria Hill had called it in. They swarmed around Clint, in far too much hurry to give Lila the slightest chance to get used to the thought. They tried to inspect the child as well but a shriek of anger and terror showed that a stranger laying a hand on her at the moment was a very bad idea.

Only the slightest change on Natasha's face betrayed her true feelings as she pulled Lila to her arms, murmuring something inaudible to the child's ear. The overwhelmed little girl clung to the woman incredibly tightly, face buried to the comfortingly familiar shoulder. Even Phil could see that Lila was trembling miserably. He was dimly aware of the fact that he was shaking, too.

Phil swallowed thickly, unable to get rid of the lump sitting in his throat. He was barely able to restrain himself from grabbing the Widow's wrist when the woman walked past, the glare on her face daring anyone to try and grab the child from her. "Natasha…"

The woman, however, shook her head sharply. A glare intensified the impact. "Not now." With that she was gone, fighting visibly to not look over her shoulder towards her fallen partner.

By then the rest of Phil's team was looking for Cherkov. He knew that he should've been, too, should've done something useful. But as it was he couldn't budge, wasn't able to even glance away from Clint.

The medical team was clearly fighting a small war to keep the archer alive. Clint was barely breathing and the amount of blood the man had lost was sickening. And no matter how little Phil liked to even think about such an option it was hard to believe that anyone would survive an injury like that.

The world spun uncomfortably as Phil stood there all alone, a ton's weight of guilt sitting on his shoulders, and wondered if he'd ever get the chance to make things right.

* * *

From a secure location Olga Cherkov witnessed Phil's pain with sharp eyes. Gladly accepting what was necessary. She clutched her hand around a medallion that contained a picture of her son. The other hand switched off the video feed while the medical team still worked on Clint.

" _He may still survive_ ", the man stood beside her pointed out.

She shrugged calmly. " _Unlikely_ ", she pointed out. And even if the archer did pull through somehow she'd seen what she'd been looking for.

This day would never, ever stop haunting Phil Coulson. There would always be a tiny spot in the man's heart that'd remain eternally scarred. His agony wouldn't bring back her son but if she'd managed to give him even a taste of what she went through…

She stretched like a cat. Then began to make her way towards the door. " _Let's go._ "

" _Where to?_ "

She shrugged. " _We'll see. The world is full of possibilities for someone almost everyone imagines dead._ "

* * *

As soon as Lila woke up she smelled a hospital. And her dad's blood, even if she realized that the latter stench only belonged to her memory. She bit her lip to restrain a whimper, curling up tightly in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the ache. Trying to will herself away from the time and place at hand.

The last thing she remembered was being given some medication. The word 'shock' had been mentioned. Then she fell asleep.

She wished she could wake up from _this_.

"Lila?" Cooper sounded tired. She heard someone shift beside the bed. "You awake?"

She nodded feebly, opening her eyes. They stared at each other, far too serious for children so young. "Where's daddy?" She wanted to see him. Wanted to make sure…

Cooper swallowed. "They're fixing him up. Mom's outside, talking to a doctor." He tried to say more but couldn't, and that was when she realized that he was scared. It made the whole situation even worse.

Lila sobbed dryly, her eyes stinging although tears didn't spill anymore. She sat up very slowly, shaken to her core. "He… He wouldn't wake up, Coop. What if… What if he never wakes up again this time?"

Cooper couldn't seem to find the words. The boy crawled to the bed and pulled her to a hug, to which she responded feverishly eagerly. It was impossible to tell which child needed the contact more. Neither had dry eyes.

* * *

The search for Olga Cherkov was futile. It didn't surprise Phil. Which didn't mean that it wouldn't have hurt like hell. The fact that he couldn't even bring Clint justice was a bitter insult to injury.

Olga Cherkov was a KGB-relic, the last remnant of a project even more nauseating than Red Room. And a big reason why a lot of people wanted Clint's head on a silver platter when the man headed for a mission to kill and brought home Natasha. It was a public secret that S.H.I.E.L.D once imagined Cherkov to be the ally they'd desperately needed. She worked with them and gave valuable information for as long as she needed them. Then she betrayed them and ran, slaughtering six agents as her version of a farewell gift. All traces hinting who chose to hire her were swiftly erased. A selected few knew that it was a man named Alexander Pierce. Now, with the knowledge of Pierce's true loyalties, Phil wondered just what sort of a deal the man made with Cherkov.

Cherkov was a ridiculously smart, chillingly cruel creature. A real life Frankenstein's monster even those who made her what she was had disowned and feared until she killed every single one of them. She was a survivor, loyal to no one but herself now.

Phil didn't know how someone like her ended up with a son but the little boy was the only thing which made her human. Now… Now it was anyone's guess what she might do. And they had no idea how to find her.

Phil sighed heavily as he stared at the thick file in his arms.

The report of injuries Cherkov received upon her alleged death was a gruesome read. She received heavy bruising, a couple of broken bones and five stab wounds. Stomach, chest, side, leg, and finally arm. The laceration to arm was, without a doubt, what tore off the tracking chip that'd been implanted to her once upon a time. A tracking chip Phil had foolishly imagined she'd had no idea of. Clearly she'd arranged the attack – which led to the deaths of all four assailants – and paid for her freedom with blood and scars.

"So this is where you're hiding." Melinda May's familiar voice made him shiver with startle. She gave him a look that said and saw too much.

Phil shrugged. All of a sudden he felt incredibly tired. "This is a hospital's waiting room", he pointed out. "I'm not exactly hiding."

Melinda didn't comment. Instead she took a seat beside him, close but not invading his private space. "Any news yet?"

Phil shook his head. Without noticing it he cast a longing look towards the door. "They're still operating on him." At least Clint was fighting. There was still hope.

They sat in a silence, both deep in thought. The mental image of Clint and Lila wouldn't stop haunting Phil for even a second. He didn't think he'd stop blaming himself for this one for as long as he'd live.

"You do realize that there's no point in blaming yourself on things you had no control over, right?"

Phil gave his friend a tiny, bitter smile. Unable to find a shred of comfort. "Does telling yourself that ever really work?"

Melinda didn't answer and he was glad, because he didn't think he would've been able to handle honesty.

Phil had no idea how long passed by – his eyes locked on the file like it would've been able to soothe his aching heart, and Melinda offering her silent support – until steps entered the room. He looked up quickly, hoping to find a doctor. Instead he faced Natasha. His lips opened and her eyes narrowed instantly. "I already said later", she hissed. Then took a breath. "A doctor just showed up. I figured that you might want to be there."

Phil knew that he had no right to wish for that. Or to accept the offer. But he just couldn't help himself. He nodded speechlessly, then got up despite being unsure whether his legs would support his weight and followed her.

The journey seemed to take ages and the silence between them was suffocating. Eventually Phil just had to break it. "How did you know to come, anyway?"

"Laura called me." Natasha's mouth was tight, which was the only thing indicating just how upset she was. Under different circumstances, once upon a time before the disaster that was Loki, he might've risked trying to comfort her. She refused to look at him. "Her husband and daughter had gone missing, and she didn't know what else to do. I got there only minutes after your team."

"How did _you_ find him?"

"You have your ways. I have mine. You sleep better at night if you don't know mine."

"I don't really sleep at night anymore."

"You imagine any of us does?"

Her subtle indication that there still was an us, that they were a team, made Phil feel the first hint of warmth since the message and the bloodied bow. It lasted the grand total of ten seconds. Until they reached their destination.

Laura Barton was talking to a doctor with a sleeping baby in her arms, both adults turned so that Phil couldn't see their faces. She nodded once, twice, tensing up further with each passing moment. Once the doctor left, after squeezing Laura's shoulder comfortingly, the woman remained frozen still for torturously long. Then, slowly, slowly, turned and their eyes met.

The look on Laura's face made Phil feel like he'd been stabbed all over again, and it became as hard to breathe as it was right before he died.

* * *

/ _"Hawkeye, do you trust me?"_

 _Clint nodded. Even with a gun pressed against his head. Then spoke in English, knowing full well that their company didn't understand it. "With my life." And they both knew that the younger man definitely didn't gift his trust lightly._

 _Seconds later a gunshot echoed, sealing the pledge._ /

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: DANG, that was sad…! Poor… EVERYONE, basically! Especially little Lila. Let's hope that Clint finally wakes up, because both his little girl and Phil need him to!

Soooo… Any good, at all? Garbage material? PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know! Hearing from you makes me purr from joy.

GAH, it's LATE! (winces) Until next time, ya all! I really hope that I'll see ya there.

Take care!

* * *

Anonymous: It is indeed! (gulps) I REALLY hope that you'll keep enjoying the ride.

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	4. Broken Trust, Bruised Hearts

A/N: IT'S UPDATING TIME! BUT, before getting to the part I imagine you all came here for…

THANK YOU, so very much, for all your absolutely amazing reviews, listings, love and support! (BEAMS, and hugs) This story's been budding to life in the back of my head for AGES, so it warms my heart that you're taking this journey with me.

Awkay, before I get so sentimental that Natasha would throw something sharp at me… Let's go! I really hope that you'll have a good time (even if this isn't exactly a feel-good chapter).

 **On popular demand** I'll expend the little bit at the end of the previous chapter. Over the rest of the story we'll see glimpses of a mission that changed something fundamentally for Clint, and showed him that there's one person he can trust.

* * *

Broken Trust, Bruised Hearts

* * *

/ _Clint was used to being picked on. To being beaten up by those who were bigger and stronger. There was fairly little he could do about his size but as years upon years passed by he worked tirelessly to make himself stronger. And eventually he was able to hit back._

 _In fact, he learned that entirely too well. He always fought alone. And somewhere along the way he forgot how to rely on others._

 _Phil Coulson sighed heavily while sitting beside the boy, who was currently sporting a split lip and who knows how many bruises. "So… According to Anderson and Donovan you attacked first." He flipped through a file. "Quite an impressive list of damage you did. A couple of cracked ribs, extensive bruising, a few chipped tooth…"_

 _"I've never unpacked my bags." Clint's voice was carefully controlled but it was easy to catch the venom and hurt underneath. The kid didn't look at him. "When do you expect my resignation from the training system?"_

 _"We have surveillance cameras, you know? Besides… I wouldn't have needed those. You can be a real thorn in my side with that temper of yours, but you're no idiot." 'I trust you', was what Phil hoped to convey. Because something told him that the kid had faced far too few people who would've believed in him. He went on when the archer offered no reaction. "Those two were the ones who ganged up on you. Fury's already sent_ them _packing."_

 _Clint nodded, very slowly. Clearly wondering whether to believe him. Then muttered quietly. "They don't trust a former crook. And they shouldn't."_

 _Phil shrugged with lightness he didn't feel. "Then we'll prove them wrong." Facing a pair of questioning eyes, he went on. "You're ready for a practice mission."_

 _They should've known that it'd all go wrong._ /

* * *

Phil gasped as he woke up quickly and violently, eyes flying open. Instantly and instinctively his hand began to reach out for a concealed weapon. Fortunately he never had the time to actually grab it. Because all of a sudden he was coherent enough to recognize Laura Barton's exhausted face. The baby in her arms was whimpering. Phil, curiously, found himself wanting to emit something similar under her searching gaze.

"You were muttering in your sleep", Laura revealed. "And it didn't seem like anything pleasant. You okay?" She didn't ask what he dreamt of and it occurred to him that she had to be used to waking someone up from a nightmare.

Phil nodded slowly. He swallowed thickly, hating the taste sitting stubbornly in his mouth, and took a steadying breath. "Clint?"

The look on Laura's face darkened. "They just took him to surgery. Again."

Phil's shoulders sagged and he looked away, guilt striking with enough force to make him shiver.

The doctors rallying around Clint had made it adamantly clear how little they believed in the archer's chances of recovery. They were, however, going to keep fighting for as long as the Hawk would. Even if it was more than likely that they were fighting a losing battle.

Firmly pushing his thoughts elsewhere before he would've ended up losing control, he looked around and frowned. "Where are Lila and Coop?" It'd been four days and while Lila would definitely need to talk to a professional about the trauma she went through, she no longer needed medical care. Or that's what he understood from Natasha's curt reports.

"Nat's looking after them." Laura took a deep breath. It shuddered. "Lila… You know how she hates hospitals. She wanted to try to stay, though, so badly." She shook her head at the clearly unpleasant memories. "It's not like kids would be allowed to the ICU, anyway."

Phil opened his mouth to say something, anything. Words of comfort and reassurance. If only his tongue didn't get tied. He wanted to be there to support all the Bartons but didn't feel like he had the right when this was all his fault.

How did everything become such a mess?

"Eighty-seven." Laura's voice startled him back to the present. She wasn't looking at him, or the noisy baby in her arms. There was a faraway look in her pained eyes. "That's…" She cleared her throat but her voice still didn't sound right when she continued. "That's how many times I've really, honestly thought that 'this is it'. 'This is the one he isn't going recover from.' And it's…" She emitted a choked sound. "It's horrible. And…" She gritted her teeth. "Sometimes… Sometimes I hate the fact that I love him enough to make myself go through it, over and over again." Finally they locked eyes. "After Loki… After he thought he lost you… For the first time I actually did lose him. I have no idea which… _thing_ did more damage, but… A tiny part of him never came back from that. I don't even know how many nights he didn't sleep at all, or woke up screaming. Sometimes he called out to you, until he… stopped." She rubbed her face roughly with one hand while the other supported her child. "He wouldn't talk about any of it, no matter how hard I tried. I wouldn't have known when your funeral took place if I didn't catch him deleting the text-invite from Fury."

Screw getting stabbed by Loki, this hurt much, much more.

Phil couldn't look at Laura anymore as she continued. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel worse, because you already look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. But… I need you to understand what it all did to him. So you know why I can't hug you right now, no matter how happy I am to have you back. I might end up punching you if I tried."

Phil sighed heavily. He wasn't the only one with the weight of the world on their shoulders and he wanted to hold her hand to offer support, but didn't dare to touch her. "I'm sorry", he murmured, and meant it from the bottom of his heart.

"Why did you do it?" Laura wasn't accusing him, although he could tell that she was angry. She was trying to understand. "You know how important you are, to us all. Why would you do that?"

Phil sighed heavily. It wasn't like he got to choose, at first. "For the team. To give them something that'd keep them together." It sounded ridiculous, now that he thought about it. And horribly cruel.

It was Laura's turn to sigh. "Something like that can't be built on a lie. It's like making a house out of rotten wood. Eventually it'll fall apart." Her voice carried a great deal of sadness. "They've been friends for a long time, now, but it wasn't until less than a year ago Clint told them that he has a family. They're a mess, desperately trying to be the team you would've wanted them to be."

Phil frowned, almost winced at the tight band squeezing around his stomach. He felt cold all over. "Fury's been saying that the team's functioning well."

"Nick may be a genius when it comes to a lot of things", Laura acknowledged, far more softly than anyone would've dared to expect of her. "But when it comes to understanding how the hearts of human beings' work… Well, that man's an idiot."

She actually succeeded in making Phil smile. Just a little bit, without him even noticing it. "That he is." Only one woman had ever been brave enough to try and teach the one eyed man to understand emotions, and that… didn't end well.

"Why did you stay away for so long?" Laura's gaze could be felt, even if he couldn't bring himself to face it. "It's been years, Phil. Why didn't you come back home?"

Phil looked down towards his hands, which were squirming in his lap. Shame joined guilt, making him feel sick to his stomach. "I didn't know how to", he admitted. "I couldn't just march back in saying 'surprise, I'm not dead'." Someone with Clint and Natasha's trust issues would've actually killed him for pulling such a stunt. For treating their very much real grief like a joke. Phil's jawline tightened. "And… The timing just never felt right. When I was… well enough, it looked like everyone had moved on. I had a team to look after, and there was the aftermath of New York. Then S.H.I.E.L.D fell." Plus, on top of all that, he found out that he actually did die for a while, but it wasn't something he felt like blurting out loud. He shook his head, chaotic flashbacks making it all feel like a strange dream. "Time kept rushing by and… It just felt like I didn't have a place in my former life anymore. That life had already moved on without me."

"Moving on doesn't mean that we would've ever stopped missing you."

Phil didn't know what to say to that so he uttered nothing. Instead he looked at the baby, who seemed to have finally succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep. "I… didn't know that you two had a third one."

Laura smiled like only a proud mother can. "Meet Nathaniel. Usually he's a little ball of sunshine but he's having a cranky day."

Phil looked at the child with a small, sad smile. For a few moments he felt tempted to ask for a permission to hold him but decided against it. "I've missed out on a lot", he mused out loud, more to himself than Laura. He then cleared his throat and spoke more loudly, feeling the need to pierce to gloomy silence which fell. "You poor thing. That one…" He nodded towards Nate. "… is definitely his dad's son. See? He's even got the Barton pout, to perfection." He grinned when the baby emitted a sleepy sound, as though agreeing. "Oh yes, you'll be running around in no time, looking for trouble and driving your mom insane."

Laura punched his shoulder with a fist. Gently. "Stop trying to make me laugh when I'm still mad at you." It probably sounded a lot fonder than she meant it to.

They both needed a distraction. So over the next few hours Laura told him everything about the Barton family he'd missed out on. Good, bad, even the embarrassing. And Phil told her about the new team he'd been entrusted with. Also the good and bad. It gave them both a sweet illusion that the mess at hand – Phil's sudden return, Clint's condition – weren't happening.

Until reality crashed down on them.

The doctor who entered the room had a chillingly grim look on his face. Yes, Laura was still processing everything that'd been thrown at her. But in that time of need she grabbed his hand, tightly enough for it to hurt. Phil's fingers curled firmly around hers as well while they both tensed up, waiting for the verdict.

* * *

Natasha couldn't remember the last time she would've slept properly. She was… worried, was most likely the proper term. She hated it, because no one had ever taught her how to handle such. Clint tried to. So did Phil.

She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as she pushed back the thought of her former handler – friend. She'd process her feelings towards Phil's… departure, and return, when Clint had recovered. Until then she'd focus on other things.

Hearing her phone ringing and seeing Fury's name on the screen did little to ease her mind. She gritted her teeth so tightly that it hurt before picking up. "Did you notify them?" The rest of the Avengers were on a mission so letting them know about Clint's situation had taken too long.

" _I did._ " There was a small pause. " _I… also told them about Coulson._ "

Natasha's temper flared. It took all her self-control to keep her tongue in check. "I have to go."

" _Look…_ "

Natasha was about to start growling things she probably wouldn't have regretted later even if she should've. Then a small, painfully familiar cry carried to her ears, effectively snatching her from those troubling thoughts. "I have more important things to do than ease your guilty conscience. Over and out." She hung up without giving Fury a chance to respond.

Natasha sighed, still feeling on the edge. Time to face the other reason she was losing sleep. On her way she checked to make sure that Cooper was asleep. The boy was resting albeit not exactly peacefully, with a deep frown that looked far too adult on his face. The sight would've broken anyone's heart.

The shout Natasha heard earlier turned into sobs, and she remembered that she still had some distance to cover. She steeled herself with a deep breath, then continued onwards. "Lila?" she whispered as soon as she reached the little girl's room.

The child was in her bed, firmly under covers and curled up. It was easy to see that the whole tiny frame was trembling. The sobs refused to stop despite visible attempts.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Natasha went on after a barely traceable nod. "Do you want to talk about it?" The answering shake of a head was quick and resolute. "How about some hot chocolate, then?"

"Daddy isn't gonna be okay this time, is he?" To hear such hopelessness and grief in such a little girl's voice… "I… I heard you and mommy, earlier."

Natasha sighed heavily. Oh, how she hated this…! "Sweetie… Your dad was hurt really, really badly. And… The doctors have worked really hard to help him. They're worried." She sat to the edge of the bed and stroked Lila's hair gently, letting the child lean in to the comfort. The Widow could only hope that she wouldn't mess this up royally because she had no idea what she was doing. "But you and I… We both know that your dad would never, ever leave you guys without fighting with all he's got."

Lila said nothing to that, likely didn't believe her. Somehow that loss of faith was the most heartbreaking part. The silence stretched. "I tried to be brave", the girl whispered. "I swear I did."

"I know." Natasha narrowed her eyes again in a valiant effort to get rid of the searing sensation filling them. "But you're just a little girl, you know? It's not your job to stay brave." Flashbacks of herself in Lila's age filled the Widow's head and she shivered violently, feeling ill all of a sudden.

Lila's sobs quieted a little but didn't end entirely. When the child finally spoke her voice was almost inaudible. "I… I think I wet the bed." The girl sounded humiliated and absolutely miserable.

Natasha did her best to not show how much her own heart hurt. "It's okay", she swore and kissed the child's head to enforce her words. "We'll change the sheets. And then we'll have a midnight ice cream party, just us girls. How does that sound?"

"Sprinkles?"

"Of course there'll be sprinkles."

* * *

It'd been a long, long marathon of six days. Laura remained almost inhumanly strong, somehow managing to keep herself from falling apart while her husband and daughter seemed to be. Until the unbearably bright morning when Clint flatlined for the fifth time and she found herself throwing up violently in the hospital's toilet, barely able to hold back a panic attack. She was exhausted, stressed out and terrified out of her mind.

Natasha finally intervened when she'd been staring at the line pronouncing Clint's heartbeat for a solid hour, barely daring to blink. "Go home, Laura", the redhead commanded in a voice that left no room for objections. "I get it, I do. But you're no help for him if you keep going like this. Take a break. Just a few hours."

Laura swallowed. Her eyes strayed towards her unconscious husband. It was eerie how at peace he looked. "What about…?"

"Coulson will keep watch." Very clearly Natasha wasn't fully comfortable with that thought. But now wasn't the time to nurse hurt feelings. "Lila's appointment with Dr. Tulsa is almost over. Coop's there waiting. I'll take you guys home."

Leaving Clint was every bit as hard as it always was. She placed a tender, pleading kiss to his unnaturally warm forehead. Then followed Natasha out quickly, not daring to look back in fear of what it might do to her resolve.

After far too many sleepless nights Laura felt like she'd been sleepwalking as they got the kids. The nurse who'd been keeping an eye on Cooper gave them a sympathetic look she barely noticed. As soon as Lila walked out of the doctor's office the little girl catapulted herself into her mom's arms, trembling uncontrollably. The look on the therapist's face told exactly how the session went.

The fresh air filling their lungs as they made it outside did them all a world of good. Lila started chatting and even Cooper relaxed a little as the two bombarded Natasha with questions of some mission. Laura followed the tale until something caught her attention.

A bird lay on the asphalt, apparently having died of a broken neck. Most likely as a result of a collision with a car. Gone in a blink of an eye. The poor thing never suspected a thing.

Laura didn't notice that she started hyperventilating. Nor did she hear Natasha calling out to her. As soon as the redhead had ushered the kids into a car the woman approached. Laura still didn't notice.

"Laura?" Natasha's voice seemed to come through a fog. "Laura, you're close to having a panic attack. What's wrong?"

Laura didn't know what happened. It was like a switch had been flicked. For the first time since finding out that her daughter and husband had been taken she began to cry openly, and didn't know if the tears would ever stop.

* * *

Clint woke up the grand total of five times. Almost, anyway. It felt more like a never-ending nightmare.

He heard Lila calling out to him. Begging him to wake up. And he wanted to, so badly that it _hurt_ , broke his heart. But the pull of the dark was stronger.

Then he heard Phil's voice, somewhere in the distance. Was it real? Was he dying? He faded away again without getting an answer.

The third time he heard medical personnel. They talked about him like he was a part of the hospital equipment. Contemplated his chances. In the end they decided that it was highly unlikely that he'd survive the next couple of days. Clint wanted to prove them wrong, far too stubborn to go down. But then hellish agony, such that burned, went through all of him and dragged him away. Perhaps for good.

But oh no, he wasn't dead yet. The next voice he heard was Laura's. He couldn't quite comprehend the words but her tone soothed him, made him feel like he was home. The kiss she gave him lulled him to sleep.

The fifth time he woke up the only sound he heard was an absolutely infuriating beeping. He groaned and wiggled, instinctively trying to get away from the source of discomfort. Big mistake. White, hot pain ravished all of him and he groaned again, louder this time.

"Clint?"

He knew that voice. That impossible voice. The beeping intensified as he fought a Herculean battle, finally managing to crack his eyes partially open.

After what felt like half a decade his vision cleared enough to reveal the pale, tense face of Phil Coulson.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: (drum roll) SO… We're reaching a fairly interesting part of the story… Clint's waking up. How is he going to react to Phil? How is this whole mess going to end?

SOOOOOOOOOOOO… Any good – at all? PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know! Hearing from you makes me happier than you could ever imagine, sooooo… (insert puppy dog eyes)

Until next time! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Guest: GOSH! (BEAMS, and bows, humbled) I'm SUPER happy that you've enjoyed the ride thus far so much! Poor… EVERYONE. (winces) Let's hope that they'll all come out of this at least somewhat okay.

Massive thank yous for the review!


	5. Damaged Family Ties

A/N: PHEW! It took ridiculously long but now this chapter is FINALLY complete. Yay?

First, though… Oh my gosh, thank you A MILLION TIMES for those amazing reviews, listings and support! It makes my heart sing that you're all so eager to take this heartbreaking journey with me. (HUGS)

Awkay, because time's an issue… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Damaged Family Ties

* * *

/ _Clint wasn't sure what happened. Or how long he'd been unconscious. He woke up in painfully tight restraints._

 _For a couple of treacherous seconds instinct overrode training, and he gasped._

 _"_ Hey, look. _"_ _The voice was uncomfortably close. "_ I think the little rat's waking up. _"_

 _"_ Good." _A metal cover fist slammed at his face, so hard that it nearly made him black out again. "_ Next time the thought of escaping crosses your mind, little shit… Think again. Traitors aren't accepted kindly here. Remember what happened to Silas? _"_

 _"_ Hey!" _The other voice was only an octave kinder. "_ He's Boss' property, remember? And he doesn't like bruises on their faces. _"_

 _"_ No, I don't _",_ _a new voice confirmed. A sinister one. Clint's eyes opened just in time to see a pair of sharp rodent's eyes. "_ But I also can't tolerate traitors. I'll lose my reputation if I allow the likes of you. _" The man sighed. "_ Such a shame. Such waste. Well… It's all business, I suppose. _" The man's head turned. "_ Basil! Handle him! _"_

 _Clint turned his head as well with difficulty, just when Phil Coulson entered the room._ /

* * *

The infuriating, skull tearing beeps turned into a constant ringing noise that was nothing short of torture. Clint wanted to scream, at the top of his voice, but couldn't produce a sound. All he could do was stare, his heart galloping painfully.

He was in a hospital, that much was obvious. But the memories of how he ended up there… were foggy, at best. He remembered pain. And, all too clearly, that Lila was right there in the mess with him. Was she safe? Did she get hurt? Those people, did they…?

And then a hand was placed to his shoulder.

Clint's gaze shifted swiftly, sharply. To find a man who, according to all reason and logic, wasn't supposed to be there. A man who was supposed to be dead.

Which was when he remembered a yet another tiny fragment. Phil's voice. Promising to find him.

It all crashed through him. Shock. Betrayal. Rage. And finally guilt – everlasting, never fading. Over what he helped Loki cause, over feeling all those negative, horrible things now when what he'd been wishing for on countless of lonely nights was right there in front of him. He wanted to punch Phil, so hard that it hurt physically, but he wasn't able to move a muscle. He should've been happy and relieved. He couldn't be either, not really.

Not when he could barely breathe.

Phil's lips were moving. Worry was loudly present on the man's face. Clint did his best to try and read those lips, to figure out what was happening to him. Nothing made sense.

Was Phil dead, after all? There to collect him? Because… He felt like he was dying. Suffocating. And no amount of reasoning with himself succeeded in calming him down.

* * *

/ _"… trust me …"_

 _"With my life."_ /

* * *

Medical personnel was rushing into the room all of a sudden, startling them both. Clint felt a warm tingling seconds before he realized that something was injected through his I.V. line. It didn't cause the fight in him it should've. Instead he stared helplessly as they began to escort Phil out of the room. His heart was still pounding in a manner that made him fear it might give out.

Clint's lips opened. He had no idea to produce what. Words didn't come, mainly because he could barely pull in a proper breath.

Phil didn't look back. Didn't give him another glance. Maybe it was for the best when Clint himself had no idea what he wanted his friend – former friend? – to do.

* * *

/ _"… trust me …"_ /

* * *

Clint's line of vision swayed dangerously as he looked at the closed door. The strangers bustling around him did nothing to help with his anxiety. He wanted to scream at them to go away, too. He had no idea what to think about Phil at the moment but he wanted these people gone. Which rebelled against the overwhelming desire to ask about his daughter. The mental image of the look on her face when those people took her… It haunted him, even though his sluggish mind barely managed to grasp it.

Clint tried to keep his focus on Lila, because he was desperate to know what happened to his little girl, but at the moment keeping his thoughts together was impossible.

He needed time. Just a little bit. To get himself and his thoughts together. To overcome the new, ridiculous sense of loss. To patch together his newly broken heart. To breathe – hell, to get even a single proper breath.

Instead of all that, however, he slid out of consciousness.

* * *

/ _"… trust me …"_ /

* * *

As soon as Phil had been pushed out of the hospital room and into a waiting room – a journey of which he had absolutely no memory traces – he froze. He wasn't one to run away from his problems. But in that moment, with the much too vivid memory of the look in Clint's eyes…

"Coulson?"

His idol's far too familiar voice made Phil shiver. He turned, slowly, to find Steve Rogers. The younger, or perhaps rather much older, man was accompanied by a woman Phil recognized faintly from pictures, files and news footage. Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch.

Phil and Steve stared at each other for a long moment. Both feeling more than they were comfortable with. Eventually Steve took a breath. "How is he?"

Phil swallowed. Tried to focus. "He… woke up. He was agitated, so they're working on him now." That was the clean-cut version.

The other two seemed desperate to ask more but clearly saw that he wouldn't be able to produce any more answers. Eventually Wanda sighed. "I'll… go and get us some coffee."

Steve approached him almost as soon as Wanda had left. At first Phil expected a violent reaction but instead the Captain offered him something. He inspected the item with a frown and felt his stomach knot.

It was a vintage Captain America trading card. Stained in red. But clearly the one he'd imagined long ago lost. The one he'd forgotten. "You kept this", he wondered out loud. Dazed.

"Of course I did. It brought the team together." _You did._

Phil sighed heavily. What a mess… "I'm sorry…"

Steve shook his head. "I know. I can see that." The soldier composed himself for a few tense seconds. "Are you going to stay, now?"

Phil swallowed and felt tempted to look towards the direction of Clint's room. Instead his eyes turned towards the window. He hated the unnaturally bright sunlight. "I… died, Rogers." Literally, but the Captain didn't need to know that. "The life I used to have… It doesn't need me. I don't belong here anymore."

It was impossible to read the look on Steve's face. The man was fighting visibly to restrain himself. "Perhaps you think so. But before you decide what to do next, consider this." The Captain's jawline tightened. "Clint and Natasha… They may forgive you for leaving them once. But they won't forgive a second time. If you abandon them again… Don't come back."

Before Phil could think of what to say Steve's phone started ringing. The soldier gave it a look and the man's eyes darkened. "I've gotta take this. It's Fury." It wouldn't be a pleasant talk.

Phil sat there after Steve left, the man's words ringing in his ears. A big part of him itching to leave, deciding that he'd caused enough damage. He stayed.

A takeaway mug of coffee approaching him startled him to the present. There was a tiny smile on Wanda's face. "You look like you need it."

Phil nodded and accepted the mug. "Thanks." He took a taste and blinked with surprise. It was just the way he liked it.

"Clint", Wanda explained. She took a seat beside him, slowly, and savored her own beverage for a while. "He talks about you a lot. You mean more to him than you seem to realize."

Phil shifted with discomfort. This wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss, especially with a stranger. "We… go back a long way." Pathetically lame.

Wanda studied him for a while. As though seeking. "He's feeling hurt and betrayed right now. But… He's incredibly lucky to have you back." There was a distant, pained look in her eyes. "People don't usually get such a gift. He'll see that one day." Her conviction was so absolute that no one would've dared to question it.

And all of a sudden, his heart swelling with much needed warmth and pride, Phil recognized a yet another lost soul Clint had saved.

They drank coffee in a companionable silence until Wanda spoke once more. "Agent Coulson? Phil? Your hands are shaking."

"So are yours."

* * *

It was a good thing that Natasha had been with the rest of the Bartons when the call from the hospital came. Laura's heart swell from joy when she heard that her husband had woken up. It collapsed into unhealthy flutters as the nurse on the line explained what happened next.

Natasha watched her with a frown as she hung up, then began to gather what she'd need for a car-ride. Where the hell did she put the keys…? "Laura?" Natasha's voice seemed to come from some other world. "Laura, what are you doing? What's going on?"

"Where are the kids?" Laura was surprised by how normal her voice sounded. Maybe she was in a shock.

"Lila and Nate are taking a nap. Like you told me fifteen minutes ago. Coop's trying to focus on his homework." Natasha's frown deepened. "Laura, stop and breathe. Tell me what's going on."

"Clint." Laura swallowed mightily, managing to regain some breath. "I, ah… He woke up, for a bit. I have to get to the hospital."

"He's awake?"

"Is dad okay?"

Laura blinked twice, then turned. In some other situation she might've found the wide-eyed looks on Tony Stark and Cooper's faces comical. It was fairly hard to find any humor from this nightmare, even when it was hopefully ending slowly. She sucked in a breath, wondering what amount of information would fit the needs of both the child and adult. "I'm on my way to see him, sweetie."

Cooper took a step forward. Appearing far too grown up for his age. And entirely too much like his dad. "Can I come with?"

Laura ruffled her son's hair gently, aching at having to deny him this. "Sorry, sweetie. But I think it's only adults, for now. As soon as possible, I promise."

Cooper accepted the bitter disappointment with a tiny, proud nod and a look of such heartbreak no child should have to experience.

Pulling her son to a tender embrace, Laura gave Tony the best smile she could manage at the moment. "Hey. You have no idea how good it is to see you!"

Tony's smile was a far cry from the billionaire's usual. "You, too. Sorry that it took this long to come." He shifted adorably awkwardly and went on before she got the chance to chastise him over apologizing when there was absolutely no need to. "So. You need a ride? Maybe we'll both get the chance to see Feathers."

Natasha rolled her eyes at the billionaire. "Well, I guess they can't kick out visitors who are only children when it comes to mental age…" It was easy to see how desperately she would've wanted to come, too. To see her best friend awake, to ensure that he was really going to be alright. The Widow's face came dangerously close to betraying her emotions but she held herself together with practiced ease. "Coop and I will take care of the home front. Call us as soon as you know something." It wasn't a request.

Laura nodded. For most people she would've offered words of comfort but knew better with Natasha. "I will", she swore instead.

* * *

The team had been on their way home from a mission when Fury finally broke the news on what happened to Clint and Lila. And that they should expect to meet Coulson. Tony was very, very happy that Steve was the one taking the call. The billionaire had absolutely no idea what he would've said. To be honest he still felt quite ready to punch in the one eyed man's teeth. Secrets like these…

Well, now was hardly the time to think about that. Because he could practically feel how hard Laura had to struggle to maintain whatever little composure she had. And Clint… Clint lay in a hospital, who knows in what condition. Everything else could wait.

The sound of a stomach rumbling pulled Tony from his thoughts. He cast a sideways glance towards Laura. "I'm not sure if I wanna know, but… When's the last time you ate?"

Laura smirked sheepishly. "It's something Clint and I have in common. We forget to eat when we're stressed out."

Tony scoffed. "Yeah. I've noticed. That guy needs a babysitter."

"I know." Laura rubbed her face roughly with one hand. He realized that she was wearing one of her husband's shirts roughly three seconds before she went on. "Sometimes I feel like I'm a mom of six." They noticed her slip simultaneously. Her face fell incredibly pale.

"Six?" Tony repeated, very slowly. He had no idea how to proceed, especially with how the air between them had changed all of a sudden. "Laura?"

They'd just reached the tiny forest area separating them from where Tony left his car. Laura shivered visibly and pointedly refused to look towards him. Her facial expression was pained. "I… had a miscarriage before Lila. And… Another, on the day they found Lila and Clint." She wiped her eyes, and it wasn't until then he noticed the moisture. Her voice broke several times as she went on. "I… I only just found out when they were taken. I was supposed to tell him when they got back."

Tony didn't have a clue what to say. To imagine the emotional hurricane she'd gone through… "Laura…"

She shook her head, interrupting him. "Don't. I… I was just…" She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes again. "One step and day at a time, yeah? Right now… Right now I need to focus on the family I have left."

Tony nodded slowly. He was still wondering what in the world one was supposed to say in a situation like this. "Listen… I suck at this stuff, but… Just know that you won't have to go through this crap alone."

Laura gave his hand a brief, grateful squeeze. "I know, Tinman. It seems that my family's gotten a lot bigger over the past couple of years."

The smiles on their faces were feeble but genuine.

That was when they reached the car Tony had used. A tiny, brief laugh bubbled through Laura's lips. "A Volvo? Seriously?"

"The idea was to not arouse attention. So sue me." He continued once they'd sat. "You're not gonna tell Feathers, are you?"

"Your secret's safe with me."

Satisfied, Tony started the vehicle. Immediately the familiar vocals of 'American Pie' floated from the radio. Clint's unofficial theme song.

They looked at each other. And at that moment they couldn't control themselves. They broke down to loud, slightly hysterical giggles and kept laughing until they were wiping their eyes.

* * *

Clint's second awakening was far more comfortable than the previous. The beeping was still there but felt bearable. Laura's comfortingly familiar scent helped a great deal. As did the well-known hand caressing his hair.

"A panic attack, huh?" Laura pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You never do anything the easy way." She didn't question the causes, clearly understanding that he wouldn't want to talk about it.

Clint wrenched his eyes halfway open with a ridiculous amount of effort. It took too long before his wife's face came to focus. She lay there beside him on the narrow hospital bed. Warm and real. He would've snuggled closer still if he'd been able to. "Lila?" he rasped as soon as he found his voice.

Laura kissed him again, this time his cheek. "She's okay, honey. Didn't get a scratch."

Clint could tell that it wasn't the full truth. But he couldn't resist the reassurance that washed through him like a blanket. He relaxed, close to falling back into sleep. "You?"

Laura gave him a far from impressed look. "I'm fine, Barton. For once in your life, focus on yourself."

Clint grinned like a loon. They had him on the good stuff, then… "Yes, ma'am", he slurred.

Laura chuckled. "You're really high on meds, aren't you?" She nuzzled his nose with hers. "Be glad Tony isn't here to see."

Clint tried to respond something witty but instead broke into a yawn. Laura, of course, noticed. As his eyes began to slip closed she started humming softly. He fell asleep, safe in her arms, before he had the time to recognize the melody.

* * *

Three days later Lila held her brother's hand so tightly that it had to hurt as they followed their mom through the hospital's hallways. "He's still pretty tired and sore. So go easy on him, okay?" Laura looked back and gave a tiny, sad smile at Lila's without a doubt terrified expression. He knelt and gave them both a one-armed hug while the other arm supported Nate. They leaned eagerly into the embrace. "Hey, it's okay. He's gonna be okay, you hear me? This is scary but he'll be okay."

Lila clung to her mom, wishing that she could've trusted her like she usually did.

And then they were moving once more. Her mom peered into the hospital room they eventually reached first, and seemed surprised. The woman composed herself for a while before turning towards them. "Get in here, you two. He's waiting for you."

Cooper, always the braver one, entered first. Lila stood frozen until her mom held out a hand for her. The child didn't take it. Instead she walked on all by herself and eventually entered. That was when she froze.

The first thing she noticed was Natasha, keeping watch a subtle distance away. Then her eyes strayed to see her dad. He wasn't sleeping, like her mom had warned he might be. He wasn't even in the bed. Instead he stood in the middle of the room in his own clothes, holding Cooper and murmuring soft words to the boy. He was very pale and a slightly older child would've seen that he was in pain. But he was there, alive and awake. After so many nights of having dreamt of him lay lifelessly…

Lila had no idea if she wanted to run away or towards him. She couldn't move a muscle. Couldn't think.

She couldn't handle this…!

And then her dad stood in front of her. Remorse even a child recognized on his face. "Sweetie, I… I'm so sorry!"

Lila wasn't aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I… I thought you were dead, daddy", she choked out. The sheer terror and grief still haunted her.

Her dad pulled her into an embrace. "I'm sorry", he murmured again. And again.

Lila barely heard the words. All she could concentrate on was that it was his voice. Her dad was there with her, still alive. The realization made her break into loud, uncontrollable sobs. She clung to him desperately, mercifully not noticing how the contact made him shiver from pain.

That was how they remained for a very long time. Holding each other and crying. And on that day Lila's recovery began.

* * *

Later, as Laura was taking the kids home, Natasha helped Clint towards the bed. He was swaying so badly that there was no way he would've managed the short trip on his own. "You idiot", she hissed, worry sharpening her tongue. "You overdid yourself. Again. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Sorry."

"That's all?" Natasha's eyebrow arched. "You're losing your edge." She didn't like it when her friend was this quiet. It was childish, and stupid, but a not very small part of her wished that things could've been normal. That everything could be like before this fiasco.

Clint shook his head. Either trying to clear it or to overcome a dizzy spell. "It's just… This is a bit overwhelming. Phil, and everything.

Natasha flinched before she could stop herself. She could only hope that he wouldn't notice. Unfortunately for her, he was called Hawkeye for a reason.

Clint spoke once he was safely on the bed, choosing his words carefully. His eyes were sharper than any blade when they found hers. "So… How long, exactly, have you known that Coulson's still alive?"

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh dear… So how long has Natasha been keeping this secret in her chest? What a freaking snowball from hell we've got running! (groans) Those poor things. BUT, perhaps things are moving VERY SLOWLY towards the right direction…?

Thoughts? Comments? PLEASE, do leave a review! The box down below is HUNGRY.

It's really late so I've gotta go. Until next time! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Guest (1): I'm really happy to hear that you enjoyed it, despite how emotional it was! (BEAMS) We'll see just what happens next…

Those poor dears, right?

Huge thank yous for the review!

* * *

Anonymous: I'm thrilled that you enjoyed it! Heh, that Laura and Phil part was one of my favorites. (grins) I REALLY hope that you'll keep enjoying the ride.

Colossal thank yous for the review!

* * *

Guest (2): I'm overjoyed that you think so! I REALLY hope that you'll be as pleased with what's to come.

Massive thank yous for the review!


	6. Wide Open Wounds

A/N: OH MY GOSH, it's been LONG! (winces apologetically) I'm SO SORRY! The birth of this chapter wasn't easy but I couldn't have imagined that it'd take THAT long.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews and love! They've definitely helped this story's resurrection. (HUGS)

Awkay, enough with the stalling! Let's go. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the long awaited ride!

* * *

Wide Open Wounds

* * *

Natasha knew Clint well enough to recognize when he was genuinely angry. There, sitting on the hospital bed, he most definitely wasn't happy with her. But he also wasn't kicking her out. She took that as a promising sign. So, she decided to talk for as long as he'd let her. "When S.H.I.E.L.D fell… I saw some files, and connected the dots. I confronted Fury about it when he'd recovered a little. Told him that I knew Coulson was still alive."

Natasha waited for Clint's response but got none. He sat horribly still and stone faced, staring at the opposite wall. It was impossible to tell what was going through his head.

She went on, wondering how much more he could handle. "I wanted to tell you, Clint. But… There was so much mess to sort out. And then you almost died, again. The time was never right."

Clint didn't say a thing. It was hard to say if he even heard her. He kept staring ahead, obviously lost into his thoughts. When had he gone so pale?

"Clint?"

He swallowed. Hard and loudly. "I don't…" He inhaled a sharp, gasping breath. "You're asking me to understand, but… I can't, Tasha. Not yet."

Natasha understood, even though she didn't like it. They'd been a team and best friends for so many years. It wasn't always easy, especially in the beginning. They both had their secrets, still did. But never anything like this. Secrets like this were supposed to be off limits.

Natasha wasn't the touching kind. But at that moment she went against everything she'd been taught since she was a little girl and grabbed his hand tightly, nearly desperately. "I'm sorry." No explanations. No excuses. Just blunt, brutal honesty.

Clint nodded. And then, to her relief, his fingers began to curl slowly around hers. The relief lived until she realized that he was even paler than before and seemed to be struggling.

"What's wrong?" Natasha demanded immediately, barely able to recognize her own voice. The finger pressing a nurse's call button wasn't steady.

"I can't…" Clint wheezed, and in a flash it became apparent what was wrong. There was a palpable amount of panic in his wide, dazed eyes. "…'can't breathe…"

Natasha nodded twice, quickly. So perhaps she didn't have the slightest clue what to do, and her own chest felt far tighter than it should've. But she couldn't reveal as much to her friend. "Okay, okay. There'll be doctors and nurses here soon. They'll see what's wrong, alright? Just… Just keep trying. It'll be okay." Because anything else absolutely wasn't an option.

It was almost heartbreaking how much Clint still trusted her, even at such an extreme moment. He nodded back at her words and tried, so hard that she saw the effort. His hand remained in hers, no matter how vulnerable he was feeling. He wasn't pushing her away.

"It's okay", Natasha murmured. Wondering what, exactly, she was supposed to say. She could only wish that the hospital staff would hurry up, because all of a sudden he seemed to be slipping away from her. "It'll be okay."

And then the room was filling up with people. Frowning as they examined Clint, who was disturbingly docile in their hands. If that wasn't a clear sign of how wrong things were Natasha didn't know what was.

"Another panic attack?" The nurse's voice suggested that she wasn't even considering another alternative. "He had one…"

"This is no panic attack", a doctor snapped, sharp blue eyes darting towards the other nurse in the room. "Get us an OR, right now. He's bleeding internally."

Natasha felt like someone had sucked all breath from her lungs.

* * *

Clint Barton had always been faster than Phil could keep up with. That trait ended up endangering the archer's life at least as often as it ended up saving him. Phil had spent the past hour walking around, wishing that there still was a place to go. Somewhere he belonged to from his previous life. As soon as he returned to the hospital he knew that the Barton luck had struck again.

The fact that Clint wasn't in his room was the first warning. Finding Natasha from the waiting room, her face buried into her hands, was the second. He swallowed thickly, his stomach knotting, and cold filled him. "Natasha? What's going on?"

For almost a full minute it seemed that Natasha wasn't aware of his presence. The voice that eventually spoke didn't sound like hers. "They missed an internal bleeding."

Phil was down on one chair before he realized what was happening. His head spun and his stomach didn't feel right. It was almost ridiculous. Clint made it through something that would've killed just about anyone else. And now… Now he might die because a yet another threat had been lurking inside the archer, expanding slowly yet lethally, undiscovered by medical professionals.

The thought that they'd lose Clint before he'd even gotten the chance to talk to the Hawk properly, before they'd had the chance to at least start working things out…

Phil's borderline frantic trail of thought was cut sharply when he spotted movement from the corner of his eye. Natasha had kicked off her shoes and now had her legs pulled tightly to her chest. As he watched – doing a great job at pretending that he _wasn't_ watching – she wrapped her arms firmly around the bent legs and let her forehead lean against them. She was shivering but not crying. Just trying to breathe and keep it together. Phil felt tempted to wonder how many times she'd taken that same pose when she was a little girl in the hands of the Red Room. Back then she had no one to hold her hand through the worst of the worst. And as a result she'd grown up to be a woman who – without a shadow of a doubt – right at this moment would've broken any hand attempting to grab hers.

Phil had been away for so long that he'd forgotten how much it _hurt_ to watch her battling with herself like this. Unable to do anything but be there and let her breathe. And did she even want him there, with the broken trust and tension?

He didn't realize that he'd moved to leave until Natasha's sharp, commanding voice growled. She sounded like a wounded wild beast. "Don't you dare."

It was the closest thing to a plea Natasha would ever come. How was Phil supposed to deny that? So he stayed. Because this time he had the choice.

* * *

Cooper had always felt like he needed to be the man in the house whenever his dad was away. He felt protective over his mom, and especially over his younger siblings. Taking care of the home front was his responsibility.

But he was still only a child. And he was incredibly scared that he'd lose his dad. Was it any wonder that bad dreams plagued him? At least they weren't as bad as Lila's. They didn't make him scream in that chilling way and wet his bed. So he decided not to tell their mom about his stupid nightmares. He was a big boy; he'd deal with them on his own. Lila needed their mom more.

Cooper fell asleep on the drive back from the hospital. No wonder. It was the first time in… ages he was able to believe, at least a little bit, that their dad would be okay, would make it back home to them. The nasty dream which followed _was_ a surprise. He woke up to his own, horrified and choked moan and bounced to a sitting position, gasping with cold sweat covering all of him.

After gathering himself for a few seconds he left the bed, ignoring how weak his legs felt. He'd just get a glass of water. Then he'd take a deep breath and calm down. He was too old to get this worked up by stupid dreams, no matter what his parents said.

His plan was doomed to fail. Because as soon as he made it to the stairs he obtained a view to the porch. His stomach knotted painfully.

His mom was there, her back towards him. Her whole frame shook as she had her face buried by one hand while the other held a phone. And somehow, despite his age, Cooper figured it out.

Something was wrong with his dad.

Most children might've ran. Or started asking questions. Or cried. Cooper turned eerily calmly and headed to Lila's room. Still asleep, she emitted a small sigh when he lay beside her and wrapped one arm around her in a desperate attempt to find comfort. And there, finally, he cried.

Cooper must've fallen asleep at some point because when they woke up together Wanda was there, rummaging through the kitchen with a still slumbering Nate propped by one arm. "So… Does either of you know how to make pizza?"

Lila searched through a drawer. In a few moments she offered Wanda a piece of paper which held a phone number. "The pizza cab", the little girl explained. "It's okay. Daddy doesn't know how to cook, either."

Soon they were eating pizza although none of them was particularly hungry. Lila leaning against Wanda for comfort, Cooper keeping an eye on the rest of them. They all pretended that they were focused on the Pixar-film playing on the TV-screen.

* * *

For Laura the thirteen days following Clint's internal bleeding were a mad emotional rollercoaster. She'd imagined that he was getting better. His doctors had been wrong, because all of a sudden she was losing him again. Then he was getting better once more. Until the infection began to set in. He kept fighting, and soon he was recovering. Laura was absolutely terrified as she waited – dreaded – where the rollercoaster would go next.

Eventually exhaustion won over. Unable to resist the temptation Laura lay down beside her husband, hyper cautious to not disturb the tubes and machinery surrounding him. He was clammy, uncomfortably warm and reeked of the hospital. She didn't care. She needed him.

Apparently actually falling asleep wasn't going to be a simple affair, though.

"… relax, honey …"

Laura's heart actually jumped. Because although that voice was barely recognizable… She lifted her gaze quickly, eagerly, to find her husband's half open, bleary eyes looking back at her. The smile appearing to her lips threatened to split her face. She had no idea if the sound crawling through her throat was closer to a sob or a chuckle. "Morning, sleepy head."

"Hmh." Clint nuzzled her nose with his. "… sleep … 'rry, baby, but you look exhausted. 'need rest." He pressed his hand gently against her stomach.

Laura's blood ran cold, because the meaning of his touch was loud and clear. She gulped hard, feeling sick. Not now, not yet… "How…?"

Clint smirked. Appearing heart-crushingly happy. "… saw the test."

Laura could've kicked herself. Apparently she'd been so shocked by the positive pregnancy test on the day of Clint and Lila's abduction that she forgot to hide the evidence properly. And Clint found it. Of course he did.

"Laura?" Clint, suddenly far more conscious, appeared positively terrified. Based on the machinery's bleeping his pulse and heartrate were spiking. "The baby… Is the baby okay?"

Staring into his petrified, loving eyes, Laura felt her self-control shattering to pieces. The tears began to form and slip before she saw it coming. "I… I'm sorry, honey", she whimpered in a horrible, pained voice. "I'm so sorry…!"

Clint said nothing. Instead he gathered her into his arms the best as he possibly could and held on, doing whatever he could to shield and protect her. And there, in his safe arms, Laura burst into loud sobs and finally grieved the loss of their child.

* * *

When Phil – who'd just woken up from light, restless sleep on a motel room's uncomfortable bed – received a text from Natasha he was surprised. When he read the words he was first surprised. Then felt worry claw at him like ice.

' _Get to the hospital, Clint needs you._ '

The journey there felt endless. On the way Phil sent several messages, basically begging for a clarification, but got no reply. He had the time to come up with a million possible scenarios of what he might find but none of them matched the reality.

Clint's bed was empty. Whatever equipment he'd been hooked on had been torn off with visible hurry. Worry swirling inside him like wildfire, Phil followed his instincts and a couple of blood drops to the room's toilet. The sight he encountered there would've shattered anyone's heart.

The mirror had been smashed to pieces with the cost of bloodied knuckles. At the moment Clint was slumped to the floor, trembling miserably. The man's agonized eyes were suspiciously moist but he wasn't crying. Traces of long ago dried tears were visible on the man's unhealthily pale cheeks.

Gods, Phil knew that expression – he'd been forced to encounter it once before…

"Laura… Laura lost a baby…", Clint murmured. So softly that it could've easily been missed. "The baby died."

Phil didn't utter a word because none would've fit the situation. Instead he sat beside Clint, took the man's hand and squeezed as tightly as he dared to. For a few long seconds Clint tensed up, then returned the hold.

It was the kind of trust Phil hadn't expected to face anymore. So he stayed, held on. Even when Clint eventually covered his face with his free hand and emitted a horrible, sorrow filled whimper.

* * *

Nick Fury wasn't a coward. Nor was he an idiot. He knew when he'd crossed a line, and lying to the Avengers about Phil's fate was definitely crossing a line.

When a brief, unpleasant phone call from Phil revealed just how inflamed the situation was Fury decided that enough was enough. Phil had faced enough heat and venom over his decisions. It was time to explain, time to reveal as much of the full truth as possible. So Fury boarded a private jet, his facial expression even more grim than usual.

It was time for a long overdue _talk_ , and he hated _talks_.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh, they're so gonna tear Fury a new one…! (winces) And GOSH, the poor Barton family…! But maybe now, FINALLY, the road towards the better has begun. How awesome was it to see Clint and Natasha show Phil a little trust? (BEAMS)

SO… Thoughts? Comments? How do you think this emotional little fic is gonna end? PLEASE, drop a line or two to the hungry, hungry box down below.

 **ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS TO GO!**

Awkay, I REALLY have to go and get some sleep, now. Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

Anonymous: YAY! GOSH, how happy I am that you enjoyed it so! (BEAMS) Phil and Wanda are such sweeties, aren't they? And don't even get me started with Tony! (grins)

The poor, poor Barton-family, though! (whimpers) Let's hope that they'll all be okay in the end.

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	7. Breakdowns and Breakthroughs

A/N: MY GOSH, I'm so, so sorry that it took me this long to update! (winces) BUT, now I'm BACK, and ready to finish this emotional little tale. (grins) Yay?

FIRST, THOUGH… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, listings and love! Without you this story would've never been resurrected. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting for too long.. Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Breakdowns and Breakthroughs

* * *

Clint and Phil remained in the toilet until exhaustion and need for pain medication became issues. They just sat there, deep in thought, processing. They'd have to talk, long and uncomfortably, at some point but not now. Not when Clint was grieving the loss of a child he'd never get to meet, name or hold.

Eventually a stern faced nurse walked in and announced in no uncertain terms that she didn't approve of her patient's chosen resting spot. It took Phil's entire self-control to hide his surprise when Clint actually allowed him to help the archer up. Under the nurse's sharp observation, he helped the still healing Hawk towards the bed, neither of them uttering a single word during the journey. They didn't even really look at each other.

Thing were _complicated_ , and at the moment they were both hurting a little too much for _complicated_.

The nurse filled in the silence for them with some stern words of admonishment, and even stronger threats against pulling a stunt like this again. She didn't leave until after giving the Hawk a dosage of pain medication the man wouldn't have normally approved of and replacing the bandages covering a wound which hadn't appreciated Clint's latest adventure. And then they were alone once more.

Clint curled up the best as the man could, turning his back on his former handler. For a long, heartbreaking moment Phil feared that whatever steps forward they took had been lost. Until he realized that Clint was asleep, knocked out by medication and emotional overload. Trusting him enough to turn his back on the room's door and let Phil keep watch instead.

Phil knew that things were a million steps from being alright but this tiny, frail beacon of promise made him feel warm for the first time since he was… well, dead.

Phil didn't know how long he sat there, deep in thought, until some sort of a sixth sense announced someone approaching. He turned his head seconds before the room's door opened, expecting a nurse, but instead discovered Melinda May. It was impossible to tell what she made of the sight she encountered. But a hint of far too rarely seen warmth appeared into her eyes. ' _Coffee?_ ' she mouthed.

Phil nodded, relaxing on his seat. They both knew that he wasn't going anywhere that night. Clint had trusted him to keep watch and he was definitely going to do just that. And that was where he remained, consuming an unhealthy amount of coffee and eventually admiring the sunrise while Clint slept peacefully.

Phil didn't ask then or later why the suddenly petrified-looking nightshift-nurse didn't attempt to kick him away, because he knew that Melinda was keeping watch for _him_. Not that she would've ever admitted to having done so.

* * *

Laura Barton was completely, utterly exhausted. The stress of Clint and Lila's abduction… The miscarriage… Trying to support her whole family as everything seemed to be falling apart… Clint finding out the truth…

She would've given a lot if she'd been able to sleep. She should've been asleep. But her mind was too restless to calm down.

It was an endless night. Laura was making her fifth mug of tea when she heard Lila's scream. With a long, heavy sigh she abandoned the mug and dashed to her daughter's room.

By the time she entered Lila was sitting on her bed, crying hysterically. "Mommy, where's daddy?" the child whimpered. Confused, as she often was when waking up like this. "They… They hurt daddy! Where's daddy?"

Laura's heart was breaking as she pulled her daughter to a tight, tender hug. She had to use all her willpower to hold back tears. "Shh, sweetie… Daddy's in a hospital, remember? He'll be okay, I promise. We'll go and see him tomorrow."

"He'll be okay…", Lila murmured, mostly to herself. Face buried tightly to her shoulder. "Okay… Uncle Phil saved us…"

Laura kissed her daughter's hair. And thanked whatever higher power might be listening that she still could. She hadn't failed this baby. "That's right." She lay both of them down, not commenting when Lila latched on to her nearly desperately. "Now let's get some sleep, yeah?"

Lila nodded, although she didn't seem entirely sure of the matter. Laura thought that the girl had fallen asleep until there was a whisper. "Mommy? I think you can turn off the night lamp, now."

Lila hadn't slept a single night without since coming home, whether Laura slept beside her or not. This was definitely a step forward. Laura smiled, even if her eyes were moist and stung. "Okay, sweetie", she murmured, and switched off the light.

There, in a darkness that no longer felt haunted, they both slept without dreams until the morning.

* * *

In the incredibly early hours of the morning Clint dreamt of a little girl. Running around on a field with her back towards him, dashing away although he tried to tell her to wait. Further and further, until even his loudest shout wouldn't have reached her. He never got the chance to see her face.

Clint woke up, unshed tears in his eyes and a soundless scream on his lips, panting as though he was struggling to breathe. He was hurting, and he had no idea where the pain came from or if it was even real. It threatened to consume him until he realized that he wasn't alone in the room. The instincts of a seasoned field agent and assassin activating despite the emotional turmoil, he turned his head to inspect the potential threat. To find a supposedly dead man sleeping beside his bed.

There was a frown on Phil's face as his former handler slumbered restlessly in a position that promised a sore neck. The man's arms were folded but Clint still spied a tremor in left hand. Whatever Phil's mind was trapped into, it wasn't exactly pleasant.

Clint focused on observing, because it was much more painless than thinking of… other concerns.

Chances were that this was the first time in days Phil actually slept. The man appeared uncomfortable, maybe even feeling cold – because the hospital room felt like a freezer even to Clint. The archer fought the instinctive urge to do something.

Clint was far too emotionally unstable to make decisions at the moment. Far too pained and angry to just forgive in a blink of an eye. He had a lot of questions. He needed and deserved answers. He'd grieved for years, nearly drowned in guilt over imagining that he caused the death of this man. Now he was kidnapped and injured, nearly lost his daughter and found out that he had a second angel baby. It was too much.

And yet…

With weak yet determined hands Clint grabbed the quilt that'd been abandoned to the foot of his bed. He covered Phil with it the best as he could without getting up or upsetting his stitches. There. That should help with the cold. Not waiting for a potential reaction Clint turned away once more, curled up although it made him bite his lip from agony and closed his eyes.

This time he dreamt of days when things were simple, they both did.

* * *

It was Clint who called in the meeting on the following afternoon. Steve and Tony agreed, although they had no idea what was to come. Natasha was far more… hesitant.

When they entered Clint's hospital room the archer was nowhere in sight. Phil sat there with his face buried into his hands. It didn't take a lot of thought-work to figure out that there'd been a _discussion_. And it didn't end well.

"How bad?" Natasha sounded deadly calm. They knew better than to trust it.

"He said he needed a moment."

"And when was that?" Steve inquired. He took a subtle step closer to Natasha. If the look in her eyes was anything to go by, there was a chance that this was going to get ugly.

"Twenty minutes ago."

Natasha's eyes flashed and her lips opened. But whatever was about to come out, Tony was faster. "Look… These have been some royally crappy times, okay? Clint said you wanted to talk. So just get it over with and talk."

Phil produced a shuddering sigh, not looking at any of them. A tremor made itself known on the man's left hand. "I… have no idea where to start."

"Why don't you start with how you're still sitting there." Clint, who'd emerged from the toilet without any of them noticing, was leaning stubbornly against the wall although the man was swaying. Arms folded, eyes full of hurt and suspicion. "Fury… He said that you died. That he was there, when you…" The archer gritted his teeth so hard that it had to hurt.

"We buried you." Natasha hadn't lost control but seemed to be teetering on the edge. "We held a funeral, said goodbye. And all this time… You've been out there somewhere, alive?" Phil clearly had no idea what to say, and his silence added fuel to Natasha's flames. "Why the hell didn't you come back to us?!"

"Because I didn't know how to!" Finally Phil looked at them. There was very much open grief in the man's eyes. "By the time I could've come back the life I left behind… What was left of it anymore? I actually died, and afterwards there was nothing left."

That… was a surprise. They all stared. "You were dead?"

Phil didn't seem to be listening. Once the damn had been broken there was no holding back. "I was given a new team, a new life. Like I came back to work after a holiday. And then… Then I remembered…" The man's jawline, whole posture, tightened. "What they did to me… What they put me through to bring me back… Do you honestly think that I wanted it? I begged Fury to just let me die!"

"Well." They'd been so preoccupied by Phil that they hadn't noticed the new arrival. Discomfort was evident on Nick Fury's face. "Seems that it's high time we have this conversation."

* * *

TBC, for a one more chapter

* * *

A/N: Oh yes, Fury… High time indeed. I hope that you're ready for what's to come…!

Poor… everyone, pretty much. BUT. At least now we've taken some MASSIVE steps towards the better. We'll see what the very last chapter brings along!

Awkay, because it's TOO LATE already, I've gotta tune out. Until the next AND (I can't believe it…!) last time! I really hope that you'll all be there.

Take care!

* * *

Anonymous: (offers tissues) Poor Clint and Laura, right? Such a tragedy! BUT, at least now Clint knows, and they can continue to recover together.

We'll see just how things will turned out between Natasha and Clint, and Phil. There's A LOOOOOOOT to be talked about… (winces)

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	8. The Art of Saying Goodbye

A/N: MY GOSH, it took me AGES to come back to this fic and finish up! I'm SO SORRY about the delay! (winces) But here we are! My New Year's resolution? Finish up a couple of fics. And I'm starting on day one. (grins)

First, though…! Thank you SO MUCH for your reviews, listings, love and support! Without you guys this fic might've never been finished. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I really hope that this turns out worth the wait.

* * *

The Art of Saying Goodbye

* * *

/ _Clint's heart hammered while Phil Coulson, or Basil as the criminals who captured him knew the man, walked closer. A gun in hand. "You want me to handle him, Sir?" Phil confirmed._

 _"Yes." A pair of sharp blue eyes flashed. "That little rat's caused us too much trouble. Get rid of it."_

 _Obediently Phil placed the gun against Clint's forehead and lay one finger on the trigger. Eyes on his. Then spoke in English. "Hawkeye, do you trust me?"_

 _The others didn't reach to those words. Clearly they didn't speak a word of English. Clint did his best to maintain the expression they expected to see. "With my life."_

 _Phil nodded. At that very moment the red light on the room's security camera stopped blinking. For a while no one was watching._

 _A series of gunshots rang out. And then it was just the two of them. Clint's heart was still racing and adrenaline flooded through his veins. But still he grinned, relief and something else making him feel warm all over despite how close he came to dying or worse. "You dragged a full team here, didn't you?"_

 _Phil shrugged, starting to work on freeing him from the restraints. "The intel was faulty at best. I had a feeling that you might get into a trouble. Sorry it took me so long to get here."_

 _Clint shrugged the best as he could. "It's okay. I knew you'd come." He didn't know when it happened or what triggered it. But at some point he started trusting the man who picked him up from a hospital instead of the police he was expecting. Took him home like some stray kitten. Nor did he know why the slowly formed trust didn't scare him like it should've._

 _Back then he couldn't imagine that there'd ever be a day when he'd stop trusting Phil._ /

* * *

Nick Fury didn't exactly have a choice anymore. So he came clean, told them everything – well, almost, anyway. Including the parts he wasn't exactly proud of.

How he watched Phil _suffer_ because he – a man who wasn't supposed to get attached to anyone or anything – couldn't make himself let go, even when Phil begged for it.

The team listened terrifyingly quietly. Not interrupting him even once. Fury went on, until he couldn't think of another word to say. And settled to wait for the verdict, his face a mask of composure.

"That… project of yours… It actually brought someone back to life?" Steve looked like he felt sick to his stomach.

Fury nodded slowly. "Yes." What point was there in denying it?

"It's unnatural! And immoral!" Steve came from a world where even computers were decades away. Something like TAHITI… "How could you do something like that?"

"Do you think you could stop by at the cafeteria?" The glare Clint darted at Fury would've made most people run for the hills. "Not you. We'll talk."

* * *

For Phil sitting at the cafeteria with the team was… awkward. Natasha still didn't seem quite sure what to think of him, how to feel about everything that'd been revealed. The others barely knew him as more than a distant legend that brought the Avengers together.

 _His death_ brought the team together. What was him being alive going to do? That question was one of the biggest reasons why he stayed away. Because usually things based on a lie couldn't handle the weight of the truth.

Eventually Phil slipped further with the excuse of getting coffee. And he actually needed coffee, desperately. Even a cup from a hospital would do.

To his surprise Wanda accompanied him. A comfortable silence lingered while he stirred his brown liquid and she got herself a mug of tea. She took a couple of sips before finally speaking. "They've both let close people they've lost." Their eyes met. The Sokovian's were full of sympathy. "You're the first one to come back. It's going to take a while before they figure out how to handle it. But they will."

Phil wanted to share her optimism. He really did. But he wasn't sure he could.

Before he had to choose how to respond Fury marched into the cafeteria. The man had no bruises but he did look like he'd been through some sort of a hurricane. Phil felt only mild sympathy. "He wants to talk to you", the one-eyed man announced. And all Phil could feel from there was dread.

He wondered just how pitiable he appeared when he saw the looks of sympathy members of hospital staff darted his way as he passed by.

* * *

Phil expected a lot of things. He definitely didn't expect to find Clint in his own clothes, standing when he should've definitely been in bed. Phil frowned, trying to decide how to proceed. "You're… not seriously planning on running away, are you?" It wouldn't have been the first time the archer checked out of a hospital with his very own permission. It'd never ended prettily and it definitely wouldn't now.

"Yeah, I am. For a bit." There was no arguing with the infuriating Barton-stubbornness. "And you're coming with me."

Phil sighed heavily. This was starting to feel like the good old days, really. "If you collapse I'm going to tell your doctors and nurses that you held me at a gunpoint to make me do this."

Clint didn't smile. But came close to it. "They'd believe you."

* * *

They were too deep in thought and Clint was probably in too much pain to talk much as they made their way slowly to Phil's car, then began to drive. Despite everything that'd happened recently they were happy to be out of the hospital. They advanced with the archer's directions and for just a little while things felt almost… normal. Well, as much as anything had ever been normal with them.

Phil stiffened when he finally realized where they'd come. A cemetery. _What the…?_

Clint darted an unreadable look towards him. "So… Are you coming with? Or let me continue alone?"

Was Clint teasing or threatening? Did the man actually want his company? A couple of years earlier Phil would've known. As it was he climbed out of the vehicle, then moved to help the archer do the same. Clint was stubborn and refused to lean on him, of course. It was comfortingly familiar. Accepting his close proximity quietly, and even making occasional sideways glances to ensure that he was there, the Hawk began to walk on.

The progress was slow and painful, and several times over Phil wondered if Clint had yet again overestimated his own limits. But at last they stopped, Clint panting from what seemed to be more than just physical strain. A nearly agonized look appeared to the archer's eyes, and Phil turned his gaze to face the same direction. What he found made him shiver.

It was his own name on a tombstone.

"I had to learn to live with the thought that I caused your death. That I brought Loki there. And now…" Clint swallowed hard, eyes narrowing. "Here you are." The archer's fists balled what had to be painfully tightly. "Letting go of that guilt and anger… It's going to take a while. So… You need to give me time."

Phil nodded slowly, feeling a lump in his throat. This olive branch was far more than he would've dared to hope for. "I can do that", he swore. He was the patient one of them, after all. And a dead man had time to wait. He almost pointed out as much out loud before thinking better of it. _Too soon._

Clint met his eyes. Really, properly. And saw far more than he should've. "We can't go back to… well, what used to be. I'm not that man anymore. Neither are you. Loki changed us both." They were still alive and breathing as they stood in front of an empty grave. But the Trickster did kill a part of them both.

They needed to say goodbye to those parts of themselves if they wanted to move on, and suddenly Phil realized why Clint brought him here.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Clint found several roses and handed half of them to him. The archer shrugged at his surprise. "You saw the flower shop in my room. I had a few to spare."

Phil nodded. Then they both focused on the task at hand. The silence around and between them was heavy but no uncomfortable as they lay down the flowers. Grieved the very much real loss. Let go. Said goodbye.

Neither knew how long they stood there until Clint's voice, softer and somehow lighter than before, broke the quiet. "What Fury did to you… It was the final straw, and I told him as much today." The archer's eyes were hard and determined. "I can't work for someone I don't trust. So I won't." The Hawk lifted his chin. "I resigned, effective immediately. I'll tell the team in a few days."

Phil felt his stomach knot. For several seconds he had no idea what to say. "You can't walk away from the S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers just because…"

"I said that it was the final straw, not the only reason." Clint appeared exhausted and strained as the man stared at the stone. "The Avengers… It's not my world. My world is at the Farm, and I've already lost too much time with them. And they need me. My daughter could've been killed, and now she has nightmares every night. My older son tries to be the man of the house. And my wife…" The archer wiped his eyes. "She had to go through a miscarriage alone, again. So… It's time I stop running around to save the world. I have to be there for mine."

Phil sighed. "I'm sorry." For so much.

Clint shrugged. "I'm not. Do you have any idea how few agents live long enough to retire? I'm one of the lucky ones."

Phil chuckled. Tiredly and mirthlessly, but still. "I don't think either of us can be called lucky", he pointed out.

Clint actually smiled at that, just a little, and Phil considered it a victory.

Clint stood stubbornly, but Phil could see that the younger man was beginning to sway. He took a subconscious step closer. "Back to the hospital?"

Clint nodded, and didn't protest when Phil supported him with one arm. It was the kind of trust Phil hadn't known to even wish for. A sign of hope.

Clint was right, earlier. There was no way they could ever go back to how things used to be. But they could start something new, no matter how difficult it might be or how long it might take.

As they left behind the cemetery it felt like they were leaving behind a lot more.

* * *

 ** _The End_**

* * *

A/N: Awww! Not quite 100 percent okay. BUT, they're getting there, little by little. (smiles)

Sooo… Was that a worthy conclusion? At all? PLEASE, do let me know! I'm always hesitant when it comes to wrapping up fics so it'd mean THE WORLD to me to hear from you.

THANK YOU, so very much, for sticking around all this time! You can't even imagine how much your support has meant to me. (HUGS) I've enjoyed this ride IMMENSELY, and there's a lot more to come!

Awkay, I've gotta go. Who knows. Maybe I'll meet you again one day?

Take care!


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